


Choke on Sun

by jadebloods



Series: HSWC 2013 Fills [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, HSWC, Homestuck Shipping World Cup, Incest, Masturbation, Multi, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Prompt Fill, Tentabulges, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Vampires, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadebloods/pseuds/jadebloods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She pulls away and looks at you, heavy lidded and slack-jawed, but her pupils are dilated and her hair is doing that thing where it sticks to her forehead. It's not a far cry from how she looks when she's inside Rose, and you take a minute to make sure that you don't process that thought fully. Instead you take the opportunity to think that she's kind of beautiful, like those ladies in the old-ass paintings who were always sitting demurely and looking slightly off to the side, but only if they had a trail of blood spilling down the corner of their mouth and a chainsaw in their lap. (Dave ♦ Kanaya ♥ Rose ♠ Dave)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choke on Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the HSWC Bonus Round 4, with the following [playlist prompt](http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/8507.html?thread=2105915#cmt2105915):
> 
> Dave ♦ Kanaya ♥ Rose ♠ Dave
> 
> Overture - Patrick Wolf  
> Another Day - Pomplamoose  
> Welcome Home - Radical Face  
> Pound of Flesh - Regina Spektor

She's doing it again. 

Forgetting that humans have limits that trolls don't have, you mean. Blood pressure has become a hot commodity around these parts all of a sudden, and it's starting to take its toll. You feel only half-awake, but maybe that's just the heavy sensation of her growing slightly warmer against your torso and the sleepy punch-drunk effect of that much blood loss. You feel like maybe you should say as much, but your fingers and lips are starting to go numb. 

Curse your delicious, sugar-frosted blood. You should probably ease up on the [Froot Loops](http://archiveofourown.org/works/842866) or something, since you have some really incriminating, but unfortunately as of yet anecdotal, evidence that trolls might actually be batshit for the stuff. Maybe she can taste it in your plasma. You clear your throat weakly. "Hey," you mumble next to her ear, even weaker than that. "Maryam." Her thumbs press into your ribcage as she extricates herself from your throat, not quite as gently as you'd like but not rough enough to make you overcome complaint inertia.

She pulls away and looks at you, heavy lidded and slack-jawed, but her pupils are dilated and her hair is doing that thing where it sticks to her forehead. It's not a far cry from how she looks when she's inside Rose, and you take a minute to make sure that you don't process that thought fully. Instead you take the opportunity to think that she's kind of beautiful, like those ladies in the old-ass paintings who were always sitting demurely and looking slightly off to the side, but only if they had a trail of blood spilling down the corner of their mouth and a chainsaw in their lap.

Maybe she's more like those paintings where the women were chopping off dudes' heads and looking kind of bored about it, like oh fuck, somebody penciled me in for a decapitation right after my nooner. Gotta make sure I don't wear the good dress today. Like some kind of Caravaggio, maybe. Yeah, that seems way more likely.

Her glassy eyes start to focus, which means that the moment is rapidly passing. The springs of the couch dig painfully into your ass, but her weight is still supported by her hands on your chest, so you can't fidget as much as you'd like. Your feet are on the floor but you can't feel them except for a distant tingling sensation, since she's been sitting side-saddle on your lap for the last... however long. Ten minutes? Fifteen?

"Over here, space cadet." You lift your arm and wipe a smudge of red blood off of her chin with your thumb, which is another thing you try not to think too deeply about because even after everything, you're still awfully disconcerted by the sight of your own blood. This time, her eyes snap to yours. "There she is. Listen, you got a guy feelin' a bit anemic over here. Let me get some juice."

"I was under the impression that alchemizing your preferred type of juice was the source of a disproportionate amount of existential frustration for you, given the coincidentally symbolic nature of that particular fruit in your civilization." Oh, good, her faculties are back. This bodes well for you not making an ass out of yourself by accidentally dying all over the good couch. That would just be a real inconvenience for everyone involved. She doesn't make to budge off of your lap, though. "You probably should have picked a favorite fruit with less emotional baggage. I am told that oranges are also pleasant to the chemosenses," she adds thoughtfully.

"I-- wow, okay, I'm just going to ignore the fact that you're proselytizing me for orange juice, because you already know how I feel about the sanctity of what I put into my body." At that, Kanaya glances over at the scrap pile of crumpled up Fruit Trollup packages on the corner table, but she doesn't voice her thoughts. Not that she needs to. "Yeah. But no, it's just an Earth thing. You're supposed to get cookies and juice after giving blood. It's kind of a ritual, I guess."

"Like the coffee ritual?"

"Uh," You shift your legs as much as you can, but she still hasn't gotten the hint. Fuck. Note to self, don't try to stand up for a while. "Not really. It's supposed to, like, get your blood volume and energy levels back up so that you don't pass out like an ignoramus when you try to go about your day afterward."

"Humans sure are particular about the circumstances surrounding their consumption of beverages made from the reproductive organs of trees." When she says it that way, it does sound pretty stupid. "I find it interesting that being visited by a rainbow drinker is a thing humans do often enough to have developed rituals around the event, especially since most of the media I have consumed tend to depict human rainbow drinkers as a source of great fear, but also of sexual trepidation and desire." You really hope that isn't an oblique reference to the occasional involuntary boner you've popped when she was in your lap like this. She's never reacted to it before, and you really prefer to continue imagining that she genuinely doesn't notice it, as opposed to it being this Thing that both of you are aware of but never talk about. "I suppose that there could be a disconnect between reality and fiction in that regard, like as with a great deal of things in your culture," she finishes, finally shifting off of your lap and onto the cushion beside you.

You think about correcting her, but the thought of trying to explain blood transfusions and the medical industrial complex just makes you tired. Everything makes you tired after a feeding, so instead you just sit, couch-locked, staring off into the empty space where her face had been a moment ago. "Disconnect, yeah," you manage to say, because it's simpler that way. "So, about that ju--"

"Oh, good. I see you've charged her up for me." Rose interrupts you, floating into the room seemingly out of nowhere. You hear her voice long before you see her, or maybe it just seems like a long time because you currently feel like you're under several feet of heavy water. She approaches the couch and hikes up her skirt-- panty watch: blue today, they match her slippers-- so that she can straddle Kanaya's lap. Kanaya accepts her without comment, her hands settling lightly on Rose's hips, and she's already starting to glow with energy. Great, fantastic. Your heart drops into your stomach, because you know that this is about to take a turn for the surreal really fucking quick.

"What's a little blood between friends?" you mumble, but neither of them responds. Instead of listening to you, Rose is getting down to business, digging one of her knees into your side as they begin to kiss. From the corner of your eye you can see her looking pointedly at you as her tongue picks up a spot of your blood from Kanaya's lips.

You think it might be a dare. No, fuck that, you _know_ it's a dare, because she knows how incapacitated you can get after a feeding session. Lalonde is laying down the gauntlet, and the message is clear: Can you get it up for this, Dave? Do you still have enough blood left to power your brain _and_ your dick?

You wish you had some juice, or at the very least, enough strength to grab her by the shoulders and yank her over to you. She's going to ride Kanaya's bulge right here on the couch and make you watch, because you're too pitiful right now to do anything other than sit all limp-limbed and wait for someone to be magnanimous enough to get you a glass of water.

Your eyelids scrape against your eyes like sandpaper, and even with eyes closed, you can still sense the brightness radiating off of Kanaya as Rose grinds into her lap-- you know what she's doing because you can feel her knee rocking into your hip as she shifts her weight back and forth. Kanaya is jazzed up on so much sugar water from the human soda machine-- that's you, by the way-- that you know she's not going to pull one of the _oh-no-I-shouldn't_ things that she sometimes does when she has sex thrown at her unexpectedly. Not with that much Strider chemistry in her veins.

(You have no idea if this is factual or not, but you like to pretend that your blood is so inherently suave that it functions as some kind of impromptu Spanish fly. Really all it probably does is give someone the inexplicable desire to try way too hard.)

Rose makes a needful sound and digs her knee even more sharply into your side, so you open your eyes just enough to see her bunching up Kanaya's skirt at the top and pulling her own underwear out of the way. Fuck. Already? She must've been preparing for this before she came over. Some kind of pre-gaming party in her room or something. You wonder how many knuckles deep she went, and then you moan. It's a small, pathetic little moan that you regret immediately but are helpless to stop.

Thank god for small favors because your god tier pajamas don't have a fly of any kind, so all you have to do is slip one hand under your waistband, no fine motor control necessary. You're half hard, half spaced out, and it isn't a place you like being stuck. Your other hand gropes blindly to your right and grabs out-- any hand, you'll take any touch right now. The firm but gentle squeeze in response comes off as an apology, so you know it must be Kanaya's. You grip it as tightly as you can and rub your free hand over yourself through your underwear, trying to fight off the dizziness by sheer force of will. You realize that Rose is winning, by which you mean she's playing you like you're her fucking violin or something, but you're too strung out (ha) to resist.

Just because you aren't resisting doesn't mean you don't care about being so easy, though.

When you open your eyes again, you're startled to see Rose's wide, violet eyes looking right at you. She's resting her head on Kanaya's shoulder while she rides, slow and presumably deep. Her mouth is open in a small o and her eyebrows are pulled high, which you know is one of her few truly naked expressions, the one she makes when something feels too good to vocalize. You know because you've made her make it before. Fuck. Fuck. You shove down your underwear and grip the base of your dick, stroking weakly and grimacing. You'd rather not grimace but you can't stop. You feel like you might pass out or throw up if you come too hard, but the risk isn't enough to stop you. You want to look away from her eyes, but you can't.

Rose drops a hand down to scratch her fingernail against the soft flesh on the underside of your forearm, just above the hand you're using as a lifeline to Kanaya. "Come on," she mouths at you, and you hate her face because it's half the same as the one you make when you're inside of her. 

Joke's on you, you guess, because you love it for the same reason.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rituals](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415209) by [doxian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doxian/pseuds/doxian)




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